I was instructed to make a list of losses by my Christian counselor a few weeks ago. I did it, grudgingly. Today I've had so many things go through my head that I think it might burst. Actually, make that this week. Tonight as I was laying in bed trying to sleep, my mind kept turning over the struggles and worries I have in this life. I wrote some, and then I went back to that list of losses and read a few of them. One of them put a label on something I have been turning over in my head lately. This is what I listed:
I lost someone who pushed me to adapt and change when necessary.
Adapting. Is that what I'm trying to do here? Or am I biding my time?
When John and I got married, we were in college. That age when your whole life is opened up in front of you and you have the potential to do a million things, go anywhere, you have no idea what the rest of your life will really look like. And after we married, he took me around the world. We lived in 2 states and 3 countries. The army gave us a continued sense of "What's next? Where will we go from here? How many changes will we see this year, or next year?"
But now...what do I do? Do I try to get used to the idea that I may be here permanently, because I'm not going to take the girls and move away from all their family by myself. If I married again into the military, I would gladly go with my husband wherever it took us. But I'm not married. I'm not military. This is my home. This is where all our family are centrally located and where I am establishing deep friendships, a volunteer position with my youth group that I'm investing greatly in, a life and a routine built here. I bought a house, I don't have plans to leave.
I could build myself a nice life here surrounded by people who love me and the girls and be happy, right? I was born here. I thought as a teenager that I might want to move to Springfield, but if I didn't it wouldn't be tragic because I love my family and I love my hometown. Once I left it, though, I can say with certainty that we did not plan on coming back to live here. I decided that I was good not coming back to the old town, the old me, the old routine. I loved living in new and different places. I had accepted the fact that I might never live even within a few hours of my family. I had my husband and my kids and they were my family.
I'm not writing this for sympathy so I'll not dwell on this next part. My whole concept of reality, of the future, shifted in a moment. Suddenly I was flying home to West Plains, MO where it seemed I'd be staying indefinitely. And for a while, I was upset about that. I was mad and I did NOT want to be here. Not long term anyway. God softened my heart quickly on that matter and told me He wanted me here, there were people to love here. But does that mean He wants me to stay here for-e-ver? (I always picture Sand Lot when I say that). Is this the house I'm going to spend a few dozen years in?
Should I start working on shifting my perspective to a future here?
Or, should I wait and still feel like this is all temporary until I see if I get married again? And what if I don't get married for years? What if I do - what if this time next year I'm in a serious relationship with someone? That sounds really really really really strange to me, too. I'm not suggesting that I do or don't want that, I'm just speaking hypothetically. So what if I marry someone who wants to stay here for the rest of his life, content to live in this town or any other small Missouri town forever? Is that okay with me? Or should it matter? On the other hand, what if he doesn't? What if he takes a job that moves us away? How hard will it be to leave what I've established?
I just want to be single for a while. I don't want to have to think about any of this for a good long time. But that doesn't change the fact that I do. I think about this stuff all the time. Because it matters to me that I don't set myself up for failure, or judge someone based on whether or not they could offer me a life as adventurous as the one before. I found myself considering a friend of mine and whether or not I could eventually see him as a potential mate. And a part of me said "Heck, no. He wants to stay here forever." And now the rest of me is asking that part of me if it's serious. Does it really mean it? Is that on the list of requirements in a future spouse? And what do I really want to do? Would I be okay staying here? If not, where and why?
And please, no one leave me a comment saying "You don't know what the future holds, so just live for today and leave the future to God." I don't think I have ever been more aware of that than I am now. I know that tomorrow may not come for me or for any of us. I know that all my planning is for naught if God doesn't want what I want. I also know that it will all work out in God's timing. I just have a few questions on my mind tonight, and I thought writing them down might help me work through it and get some much needed sleep tonight. So I'm off to try and sleep again. Good night!
Friday, February 17, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Military
Sometime before the first of the year, my daughters and I finished up at the gym we go to three days a week and needed to make a stop at the post office. I was dressed in my gym clothes, obviously, which included a shirt from Camp Humphreys that I'd received at one of the gyms on post. The back of it mentions the post itself and identifies it as a military affiliation.
Standing in line at the post office, an elderly gentlemen behind me spoke up and asked me if that was a military shirt. I paused for a moment and remembered what I was wearing and told him yes and explained where I got it. That lead us to a conversation about my affiliation with the military and my husband's story, and then to this man's story. He'd flown as a paratrooper many years ago. In his eyes was that look - you've seen it if you've ever spoken to a veteran - pride, memories, and love for his country. He even carried an old black and white photo of himself as a soldier with all his equipment on his back there in his wallet. I have great respect for all veterans, and I love to talk to them and hear their stories. They are what we stand on now as a country and they are greatly overlooked.
But that is not the point I want to make today. You see, he was not the first man to start a conversation with myself or John, when he was alive, based only on some sort of evidence that we were an Army family. We've been approached in restaurants, grocery stores, or in line anywhere where lines tend to form by veterans of all ages. Sometimes by active duty soldiers as well. And at the time I looked at it as sort of quaint, sweet, maybe a little bit sad. At times I think I've even been a little annoyed by the older men who have stopped to chat when I didn't feel very generous with my time, and at the time I don't believe I understood what it was that made them reach out and spark up a conversation with a stranger.
Now I do. Saturday I was on a road trip with some of the youth from our church and we stopped at a McDonald's to get something to drink. A couple of our girls got out and most of us stayed in the car and waited. As we sat there I watched a young man get out of his car shouldering a backpack full of his ACU's and carrying his boots. Something strange happened in my heart. It's certainly not the first time I've seen someone in uniform or obviously military walking around since John. But something made me want to jump out of the car and ask him where he was going, why he was going to change in this McDonald's, if he was national guard, if he was soon to be deployed or just going to weekend exercises. I desperately wanted to connect with someone military and hear all about what they were up to. And I really don't know why. Sure, there are psychological reasons why I would want that at this point in my life. Why my heart would ache in seeing someone out of the blue who represents what my life has been all about for the past 4 years. But I think it was more than that. I think the military gets in your blood, becomes a part of you. The brotherhood that is often spoken of between soldiers has seemed, up until now, as something they just say and don't really mean. I've been assured that the loss of a soldier anywhere in the world hits all of them like the loss of a good friend. This weekend I felt that sense of family, that draw and connection to someone who was a complete stranger. And I have no doubt that if I was inside that McDonald's when he came in and was given a moment of opportunity, I would have asked him about his life, about his uniform. I miss it.
It's also not the first time this has happened to me recently. On the very same trip one of the parents was wearing a shirt much like the one I wore that day in the post office. I could't tell you what it said, but I could tell you it was distributed by the military. He was speaking to someone else in the line at Starbucks at the mall about the military, hilariously enough. When they had finished their conversation, I stepped in and asked him about his time in service and found out that he is in the reserves right now and just got back from a tour overseas. I automatically felt closer to this man. Still don't know his name, or really anything about him. But he feels like a part of a huge family that I was very much a part of, and some of me always will be.
To my military friends, I say this: Don't give it up if you aren't absolutely certain you'll be able to live with the inescapable draw you'll have to military people that may cause you to regret your decision. And next time an older gentlemen approaches you and looks like he wants to sit and talk a spell, indulge him. Think of me and give him that connection he's looking for.
To my non-military friends, I say this: You may not understand, but I know you've seen it to. Those men proudly donning their veteran baseball caps deserve your respect and so much more. Never pass up an opportunity to thank them.
Standing in line at the post office, an elderly gentlemen behind me spoke up and asked me if that was a military shirt. I paused for a moment and remembered what I was wearing and told him yes and explained where I got it. That lead us to a conversation about my affiliation with the military and my husband's story, and then to this man's story. He'd flown as a paratrooper many years ago. In his eyes was that look - you've seen it if you've ever spoken to a veteran - pride, memories, and love for his country. He even carried an old black and white photo of himself as a soldier with all his equipment on his back there in his wallet. I have great respect for all veterans, and I love to talk to them and hear their stories. They are what we stand on now as a country and they are greatly overlooked.
But that is not the point I want to make today. You see, he was not the first man to start a conversation with myself or John, when he was alive, based only on some sort of evidence that we were an Army family. We've been approached in restaurants, grocery stores, or in line anywhere where lines tend to form by veterans of all ages. Sometimes by active duty soldiers as well. And at the time I looked at it as sort of quaint, sweet, maybe a little bit sad. At times I think I've even been a little annoyed by the older men who have stopped to chat when I didn't feel very generous with my time, and at the time I don't believe I understood what it was that made them reach out and spark up a conversation with a stranger.
Now I do. Saturday I was on a road trip with some of the youth from our church and we stopped at a McDonald's to get something to drink. A couple of our girls got out and most of us stayed in the car and waited. As we sat there I watched a young man get out of his car shouldering a backpack full of his ACU's and carrying his boots. Something strange happened in my heart. It's certainly not the first time I've seen someone in uniform or obviously military walking around since John. But something made me want to jump out of the car and ask him where he was going, why he was going to change in this McDonald's, if he was national guard, if he was soon to be deployed or just going to weekend exercises. I desperately wanted to connect with someone military and hear all about what they were up to. And I really don't know why. Sure, there are psychological reasons why I would want that at this point in my life. Why my heart would ache in seeing someone out of the blue who represents what my life has been all about for the past 4 years. But I think it was more than that. I think the military gets in your blood, becomes a part of you. The brotherhood that is often spoken of between soldiers has seemed, up until now, as something they just say and don't really mean. I've been assured that the loss of a soldier anywhere in the world hits all of them like the loss of a good friend. This weekend I felt that sense of family, that draw and connection to someone who was a complete stranger. And I have no doubt that if I was inside that McDonald's when he came in and was given a moment of opportunity, I would have asked him about his life, about his uniform. I miss it.
It's also not the first time this has happened to me recently. On the very same trip one of the parents was wearing a shirt much like the one I wore that day in the post office. I could't tell you what it said, but I could tell you it was distributed by the military. He was speaking to someone else in the line at Starbucks at the mall about the military, hilariously enough. When they had finished their conversation, I stepped in and asked him about his time in service and found out that he is in the reserves right now and just got back from a tour overseas. I automatically felt closer to this man. Still don't know his name, or really anything about him. But he feels like a part of a huge family that I was very much a part of, and some of me always will be.
To my military friends, I say this: Don't give it up if you aren't absolutely certain you'll be able to live with the inescapable draw you'll have to military people that may cause you to regret your decision. And next time an older gentlemen approaches you and looks like he wants to sit and talk a spell, indulge him. Think of me and give him that connection he's looking for.
To my non-military friends, I say this: You may not understand, but I know you've seen it to. Those men proudly donning their veteran baseball caps deserve your respect and so much more. Never pass up an opportunity to thank them.
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